Harry Potter 1. Escape

_**A/N- This story takes place during Harry's third year at Hogwarts. Italicized words are Moa's thoughts. "Solsbury Hill" was written by Peter Gabriel.**_

_**Escape**_

The trees were a blur as the girl ran through them, a stitch beginning in her side. Dirt and leaves crunched under her feet as she darted past these trees as fast as she could. Her insides screamed at her to preform the spell right _now_, but her mind told her different. She needed to stop running and she needed to hide so she'd have time to calm down and preform the spell correctly. But she was afraid to stop, and she could barely bring herself to dart her eyes across her surroundings as she ran, in a pitiful attempt to find a hiding spot worthy of fooling Deatheaters.

"She's down there!" shouted Severus Snape in his greasy voice, and pointed a pale finger at the girl. She looked like a dot to him, scampering through the foliage. The runaway child looked up, following the sound, and was greeted by a dark figure flying low on a broomstick, slicing through the sky. His broomstick looked as if it was almost touching the treetops. All around him were similar figures, all on the lookout for Voldemort's daughter. A full moon was hanging far above them, dead in the sky.

Goosebumps flew up on the daughter's skin. This wasn't going to work! How could she possibly expect to give her father's most trusted servants the slip?

The leaves on the treetops all around her shot off their branches in various directions. The girl suddenly became aware of the cause. Spells were being cast at her, but the thick plants far above the child's head were keeping them from reaching the forest floor. With every explosion of leaves, the scene around this juvenile lit up for a moment, showing her the way.

The timberland grew denser the farther she ran. It wasn't long before the frantic child was forced to slow her pace down, unless she wanted to trip over a root and feel a face full of forest earth. Strangely low branches slashed at the adolescent's travel worn clothes. Her wild black hair was constantly pulling her back, getting caught on half the things she passed by. She couldn't see the night sky anymore, which added to her alarm. She didn't know where her enemies were, which gave them the upper hand if they played their cards right. Straining to hear past the noises she made as she ran through the thicket, she listened for her enemies. She found that she could no longer hear the their voices.

_Where are they?_

She knew it would be futile for them to try and catch her through an aerial attack. They would soon discover that and begin searching for her on foot, possibly through aparating.

_Could they have already gotten off their brooms? _

This thought made Voldemort's daughter shiver violently, causing her to stumble. The farther she went, the darker this particular forest of Argentina became. Spells were no longer being cast at her, and finding her way became increasingly difficult.

_God, can't I go any faster!?_

She tried to shake the feeling that the Deatheaters were getting closer and closer to her with each passing second, to no avail. She could hear the sound of a river somewhere in the distance, and she wanted nothing more than to pull a plug and watch the water drain out. Every sound the forest made seemed to whisper to her enemies where she was.

"_I have to do this now!," _her mind panicked_,"If I don't hurry up they'll find me! Then they'll take me back..."_

_Suddenly the girl's mind envisioned a place full of black smoke and tents home to Deatheaters. The air was thick with dark magic, and the grass covering the ground was at its last stages before death. _

_The __clouds were dark, complementing the white lightning that occasionally streaked across the sky. Muggy faces covered in silver masks contorted into expressions of fear or admiration as the Dark Lord's voice rippled across the clearing. The Deatheaters standing at attention were all adults, apart from two children. These two girls stood together, standing stock still, ignoring the slight rain that began to fall. While fear began to drown the black haired girl's heart, the other radiated courage. It was amazing how different they were, making it almost unbelievable that they ended up having the same goal in life. _

_Their Lord, Voldemort, continued his speech, casually making his way towards his followers. If one were to somehow find this hideout, he might find it strange to see a group of people risking the elements to listen one man. He was dressed in white robes that appeared to be intangible. The man's snakelike eyes bore carefully into his young targets as he spoke. His footsteps made not a sound as he came closer and closer towards the two girls..._

The sound of a branch breaking sucked the adolescent out of her memories and back into the present. The source of the sound came from her right, and the girl froze for a second before springing into action. Whether it was a Deatheater or not, she would never learn. Without thinking, she followed her only plan, her one shot out of this life. Voldemort's daughter had never actually performed this spell before, but sheer desperation and luck made it work.

"Portus!" she exclaimed, her voice full of fear. A tree directly in front of her was hit square in the middle. Going with her instincts, she stretched out her hand and ran full force towards it, hoping beyond hope that it would work. She didn't even have time to brace herself as she was flung outside of "home" in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and sent traveling to the first place that came to her mind.

_I hope Layla knew what she was talking about. This place better be safe._

The girl was on the floor, her arms and legs sprawled out and her back hurting from the sudden impact. The floor under her was hardwood, but it felt soft as a Soft Tree Fern's trunk. Ruffles were under her hand, it was the start of a long rug.

During these examinations, the child's eyes stayed shut. She did not want to find out whether the girl she could only find through her memories had been right. In the end, the feeling of being watched forced her eyes to automatically open. The first thing Voldemort's daughter focused on was a pair of eyes, half hidden behind half moon spectacles.

"Why hello there Moa," Albus Dumbledore said in his soft, kind voice.

This startled Moa, and she scrambled to form words.

"How do you know-"

Dumbledore held up a hand,"Never mind that Moa. For now, you need to rest," He then held his hand out, gesturing for her to grab it,"You look quite shaken. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

Moa didn't take his hand, she almost didn't hear what he spoke. Her mind was spinning, and she was still getting used to the fact that she had _escaped. _

"I...I made it," Moa muttered. Her words rang true, whether she truly believed them or not.

Dumbledore let his twinkling eyes fall over Moa, examining her. She looked battered and worn to the bone. He felt almost afraid to touch her, she looked as if this would cause her to shatter to pieces. Her pale skin looked fragile, and seemed to have been born bruised, but never left to heal. However, her dark, hazel eyes looked hard. They portrayed a dam, holding back a river full of pain and destruction. She was a tough kid, and it wouldn't be easy to gain her trust. Albus Dumbledore was sure of it. So he decided it best be to remind her of why she chose to appear at his place, rather than anywhere else.

"Layla spoke of me, did she not?" he questioned calmly.

Moa hesitated, analyzing Dumbledore from head to toe before giving her one-word answer.

"Yeah."

"And you escaped using Portus, am I correct?"

This shocked Moa.

"How did you know?" she inquired suspiciously,"Were you there?"

Dumbledore sighed, there was so little he could explain to her! He wasn't willing to give Severus Snape away, for he didn't trust this girl anymore than she trusted him. So, how to satisfy a teenage girl's questions without actually telling her the answer? You lie, of course.

"All in good time, Moa. There are much more pressing matters to be discussed. Did anyone follow you? Did they touch you when you grabbed the portkey?" Dumbledore watched Moa as a whole while he talked, ready for the unpredictable.

"No... no one grabbed me," when Moa noticed Dumbledore still watching her, she added,"I'm sure of it."

Moa had no idea why she wanted to please this man. She couldn't really be sure whether he was an enemy or a friend, not yet.

_But Layla wouldn't let me down. _

A thought creeped into Moa's head, accusing her of being at the wrong place. But this had to be him, how else would he know her name?

_But how would he, or anyone ever know what spell I used to escape with? Unless he had been there himself... or had talked to one of the Deatheaters! Maybe there really was one about to spring on me right before I did Portus!_

So Moa asked a question that would determine everything.

"Who are you?"

Dumbledore answered automatically, without pausing to think.

"Albus Dumbledore."

"Really?" Moa's voice was full of mistrust.

Dumbledore closed his eyes, taking a moment to find a way to prove to Moa that he was really Albus Dumbledore. It didn't take long for the perfect idea to come to him. He pointed a wrinkly, knarled finger over Moa's shoulder.

"Do you see that Phoenix perched behind you? Layla Bridget was particularly fond of him. You see that ribbon tied to its ankle? Why don't you call his name and take a look at it? Go on, you know it."

By now Moa had turned around, startled to find that this large bird had been sitting just behind her this whole time.

Dumbledore put his hands on his hips, and encouraged her,"Well?"

Moa's eyes cascaded over the birds body, the color of flames. It looked like his feathers were dancing, glowing brighter the longer Moa looked. But her eyes didn't stay there for long, for what she was really curious about were its' ankles. They were bright yellow, a perfect match for the ribbon tied to one.

She gave Dumbledore a quick, wide-eyed glance before calling the name she only heard through Layla's stories.

Moa's mouth went dry,"Fawkes."

The bird did not leave its' perch, but it flapped its' wings lightly in recognition of its' name. Without thinking, Moa cautiously reached out with both hands. In slow motion, she moved her body forward, eyes never leaving the ribbon. It was impossible for her to not close her fingers around it, to carefully untie it from this strange creature's ankle. Moa had recognized it at once, but didn't allow herself to believe that this was really _hers_ until she saw the writing on the inside. In Moa's fancy, flowing script it read,"_When you find your Solsbury Hill, climb up to the top. I love you. -Moa"_

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_Climbing up on Solsbury Hill,_

_I could see the city light._

_Wind was blowing, time stood still,_

_Eagle flew out of the night._

_Solsbury Hill was the name Layla and Moa decided to call this song. It was first heard by Layla, hiding behind a tent during a quiet game of hide 'n' seek. Layla was fourteen and Moa only ten then. Layla was straining her ears, thinking every sound she heard must be Moa approaching, keeping her tense and ready to sprint in the opposite direction. But as she lay crouched behind the carnival like tent, she caught the sound of a woman's voice, singing. It was a Deatheater, waring away the time as she was sewing a deep tear in her worn cloak, using magic of course. Layla saw all this from peeking around the tent, lost in the lady's sing-song voice and the strange lyrics. Minutes went by as she sung it over and over again, almost as if she wanted Layla to memorize it. _

_But by the time Moa had found Layla, the lady had gone. To Layla's frustration, all she could remember of the unique song were the first four lines. It didn't matter much, the bit that Layla did manage to sing still fascinated Moa. After a while, the song became a sort of symbol for their friendship._

_Layla Bridget was Moa Riddle's alter ego. She was a gangly girl, a few years older. She was blessed with bright blue eyes, and paired with her French Vanilla hair these made her look like an angel. The quirk about this angel was her dirty yellow ribbon she kept in her hair. she had always hated how her beautiful hair always got in her eyes, so the day she found this ribbon was the day she found God. After that she always wore it, even on windy days where a thin, worn out ribbon was futile. _

_Layla had always wanted to leave The Dark Lord. He had murdered her parents after he found out they were double agents, working for Albus Dumbledore. Surprisingly, instead of being frightened of making a fatal mistake like her mother and father, Layla bravely continued life. She wanted to follow in her parent's footsteps. Moa could never imagine why, and was scared for Layla. She didn't want to have her face the wrath of her father, like her parents did. _

_One fateful night, the sun was setting and most of the Deatheaters were out with Lord Voldemort. They were spying and figuring, working on their newest plot. Layla and Moa were resting in Layla's lonely tent, empty without her mother and father to share it with. With decision written across her face, Layla announced that she was going to leave that night, and never come back. Moa disagreed, saying it was too dangerous, she had no place to go and she was going to be caught. But Layla's mind was made up, feeling as though she was letting down her parents if she stayed. Moa knew she couldn't be stopped, and although it hurt, she didn't want to keep her from following her dream._

"_Where will you go?" Moa had asked, feeling sadness drop through her like a bomb, ready to explode._

"_To Solsbury Hill, Moa."_

"_But there's no such place!"_

_Layla raised her voice,"Moa, I hate Him."_

_A breeze traveled across the Deahteater's clearing, causing bushes to move and the tent to make a careful beating noise. Ripples rained down all along the walls of Layla's home. It seemed to remind the girls to stay quite._

_Layla's voice grew softer,"There is for me. The Spes Mountains. Albus Dumbledore's house. My parents trusted him, so why shouldn't I?"_

_It took a moment for Moa to register what she was talking about._

"_Layla, your parents..."_

"_I know what happened Moa," Layla had snapped,"But this is what I want to do. Anyway, I think my parents would be proud." _

_Moa couldn't think of anything to say to that. After all, Layla was probably right. So with new tears filled with pain and loss, Moa managed a good-bye. A small hug was shared between the girls, but Moa felt this wasn't enough. Just as Layla began to close her eyes and concentrate, Moa grabbed Layla's arms and shook her._

"_Moa..." Layla started, wanting to leave already. The longer she stayed with Moa, the less passion she felt to escape The Dark Lord. _

_In reply, Moa roughly pulled Layla's ribbon out of her hair, and began to write on it. It was a note to remember her by, speaking of the song they always sang. Moa wiped away the few teardrops that began to appear on her cheeks as she watched her best friend aparate from her tent, leaving her old life behind forever. That night, listening to the pitter patter of rain drops, Moa had decided with a sickening feeling that she would never see her best friend again. She could follow her, but Moa couldn't bring herself to leave her own father. Her fear had outweighed her want to be with her friend. _

_Moa never met another person that could quite replace the void that Layla had left. _

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"Where is she?" Moa Riddle questioned Albus Dumbledore, feeling off balance.

Dumbledore hesitated, but knew it was best to tell her of the fate of her friend.

"Layla died a couple of months ago, Moa," sensing Moa's next question, Dumbledore went on,"It was a trap, she was attacked by werewolves. She died fighting for good, something she always wanted to do."

Although Moa hadn't seen her old companion in years, sorrow enveloped her very being. Still, among it all, a surge of happiness for her friend completing her dream swam amongst her sadness.

"Why-why do you keep her ribbon like this?" Moa gestured to Fawkes' ankle with wobbling hands. She could never predict a reason why "a family friend" would degrade Layla like that.

Dumbledore collected his thoughts, wanting to stay cool in this situation, for Moa's sake.

"She tied it there before she left that day, I don't know why. I keep it there in her memory."

_Climbing up on Solsbury Hill,_

_I could see the city light._

_Wind was blowing, time stood still,_

_Eagle flew out of the night._

_The song whirled around in her head along with images of Layla Bridget. She couldn't help but picture Layla, being killed by werewolves. Yet along with these disturbing images came memories of the young Layla from Moa's past, and Moa couldn't help but notice the similarities. Moa knew in her heart that she was following the same path Layla was. The thought kept coming to her, making Moa feel selfish and sick inside. _

_I shouldn't be regretting this! This is the right thing to do... no matter the consequences._

_But the images of werewolves and Layla Bridget were weaved permanently inside Moa's head. She couldn't help but wonder if she had made the right choice._

_**A/N- ****Kinda love it or kinda hate it? Then lemme hear what you gotta say. Absolutely hate it or love it? Then I don't really care what you do. I'm looking for criticism or someone telling me what I'm doing okay at. C apish? **_


	2. Trust

_**A/N-**** More lyrics from Solsbury Hill at the end. **_

_**Trust**_

Moa rocked back and forth on her heels, involuntarily. She would say the room was spinning, but it was honestly her daydreams that flashed across her eyes, making her dizzy. The day that Layla left was all that filled her mind. She couldn't hear the outside world any longer, reality was spinning out of control. Moa didn't even notice when the edges of her vision started to turn black. Numbness clouded her, and Moa didn't realize how hard she was gripping Layla's ribbon until one of her fingernails pierced her skin, letting her blood run free. Dumbledore grabbed Moa's forearm, and slowly lowered her into an old, yet sturdy rocking chair. Dumbledore quickly kneeled down to her height, directly in front of her. He grabbed her face, all the while gentle, and tried to bring her back from the depths of her mind.

"Moa please, I know this is horrible,"Dumbledore pushed aside Moa's bangs with his thumb,"But you've got to see reason. What happened to Layla wasn't a consequence of leaving Voldemort and joining the other side. Because it does not matter what _side_ you are on, for you can not escape the other. Do you understand, Moa? Layla was a fighter, and she would always have gone down fighting."

All she could manage as a reply was a nod. Dumbledore gave her a deep nod in return, his eyes fierce. They stayed like that for what felt like a lifetime, both trying to catch their breath. There was an intricately carved grandfather clock to Moa's left, its' pendulum rocking in time with the her breathing. The clock struck midnight, with twelve ear pounding chimes following the arrow's signal. This apparently, was a sign that Albus Dumbledore should depart. With a sigh, he double checked the clock.

"I suppose I'll leave you alone, then,"Albus rose from his knees carefully, though seemed to be in a hurry.

Moa didn't show any sign of hearing his words.

Standing, Dumbledore looked down at Moa, his twinkling eyes gleaming from reflected moonlight. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it. In a swift motion he headed for a wooden door to Moa's right. As the door swung shut, a bumpy, wrinkled hand appeared to stop it.

Half of Dumbledore's face was all that could be seen as he added halfheartedly,"In times like these, I recommend taking a lemon drop."

With that, the door slammed shut. Its' boom left a small echo in the room, where Moa slouched in a daze. It wasn't just the fear that overwhelmed her, or even the sorrow. It was the doubt, the uncertainty about changing sides that gave Moa the funny feeling in her stomach.

_Am I doing the right thing? Do I even deserve to do the right thing?_

She examined her situation. Even though Moa couldn't see Albus Dumbledore anymore, she still felt like she was being watched. Still, instead of getting the creeps, she felt a sense of security. This old man just seemed like the absolute good, and Moa no longer doubted Layla's judgement.

There was that pang of guilt again.

_I could've stopped her that night. She was my friend, she would have listened._

Little comfort came to her when Moa reassured herself that this was a lie, that Layla would never have changed her mind. After all, it had been made up long before she had consulted Moa. Among these thoughts, Moa's instincts demanded her to assess her situation.

_It's dangerous to let my emotions override me like this. I just gotta concentrate. Remember what The Dark Lord taught you?_

Moa never called Lord Voldemort "dad," not even in her thoughts. He didn't like it, He wanted to be addressed with respect. So The Dark Lord was what she knew him by.

Moa Riddle was brought up to be a suspicious person, and as soon as she collected her thoughts she started searching the room for possible exits, in case she needed a quick getaway. She meant to stay where she was, but all the curious objects around the room made her unconsciously get up and examine them. Across a carpet with a hippogriff and a griffin she went, and started her examinations at a silvery desk with claws at the feet. It was simply covered with ink bottles with ink quills inside of them. That may be a bit strange, but what was so curious to Moa was the feathers on each of the quills. They belonged to creatures she had never seen before, and she had seen a lot.

The sound of a faraway door creaking open startled her, and she moved on. Although there were many other curious artifacts and contraptions, they were largely outnumbered by Dumbledore's books. They were everywhere, large, small, old, and new. Some books looked like they had never been used, others worn to the bone as if used too much. But what caught Moa's eye was a book called Unforgivable Curses. The book was leather bound in red, with tears on the binding that look like they came from some sort of animal. Yet what Moa was really questioning was why it was so thick when there was only three Unforgivables. Unable to resist, she opened the book, preparing to search for a table of contents. But the page she flipped to was a moving picture of someone being tortured by the Cruciatus Curse. Moa was suddenly very concerned. She flipped through the rest of the book quickly, and only found more and more images of the curses being used. Her eyes widened as she heard her name, called from the man who owned this book. She turned around and found him there, hands on his hips and fingering his beard.

"Have you ever thought about asking before you looked through people's things?" Dumbledore asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

Moa's mind raced, searching for an exit from memory, afraid to use her eyes as if to draw attension to her next move.

"Relax Moa, I'm not here to hurt you. And I don't believe in using those curses anyways."

"What? Why would you have a book like this if you didn't like the curses?" Moa's voice revealed pure disbelief. Her questions were merely there to buy herself some time.

"Because I needed to study them to solve something. If you're not going to trust me, then are you not going to trust Layla either?"

This got Moa_._

_Her parents worked for him for years... decades even! And The Dark Lord was worried about her escapement. Why would he care about Layla finding him if this guy was on His side?_

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her silence.

"I... I don't know what to believe," Moa admitted, showing no emotion.

A beat passed. Both wizards seemed to be deep in thought. Moa remembered how Dumbledore was, trying to comfort her after she learned of the death of her childhood friend. It was hard to believe that not thirty minutes had passed since the news. However, it was expected for Moa to put aside her emotions. She had been trained to be that way. Until she was alone, Layla was just a stranger to Moa. She was almost embarrassed to have shown any emotion at all. Almost.

"_She tied it there before she left that day, I don't know why. I keep it there in her memory."_

Her mind was made up.

"You don't work for The Dark Lord," Moa stated.

Dumbledore gave a grave half smile,"No Moa, I certainly do not."

Relief mixed with caution surged through Moa. Relief for Albus Dumbledore's morals, and caution for what was to come next.

Both wizards were fighting for good, both wizards were going through a lot for their age, and both wizards started speaking at nearly the same time.

"They'll-" Moa began.

"Did-" Dumbledore questioned.

Both were silent before Dumbledore pressed Moa onward.

"Yes?"

Moa closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, searching for her words by collecting her thoughts.

"They'll come looking for me, won't they," Moa stated rather than asked.

Albus Dumbledore didn't let his gaze leave her eyes. There was no need to create any unneeded drama.

"Yes," he replied, more matter-of-fact than worried.

A flash of irritation flamed across Moa's eyes.

"Are we gonna take any precautions or am I gonna have to run away from them again?"

Nothing but calm radiated from Dumbledore's body as he assured Moa.

"There will be precautions, I assure you.,"Dumbledore started to pace the room,"As of right now, there are only four people that know of our location. You and I, of course. A trusted friend,"Dumbledore stopped, as if rethinking something," ....and Nicholas Flemmel."

_He was something to observe,_

_Came in close, I heard a voice._

_Standing, stretching every nerve,_

_I had to listen, had no choice._


	3. Harry Potter

_**A/N-**** Once again, "Solsbury Hill" lyrics. "Judgements" is indeed not a word, I'm just doing stuff like that purposely because that's how I want Nicholas Flemmel to be, weird yet wise, making things up as he goes along. **_

_**Harry Potter**_

"I understand that, Nicholas. But nevertheless, you must not be seen," warned an old, croaky voice.

The sound of papers being shuffled filled the room before the other man answered.

"Oh Albus, she's sure to find out soon enough."

A tentative pause.

"And besides, wouldn't it be better off if she didn't have any reason to question you or her judgements?"

There was no tension in the room, although this was clearly an argument. Moa continued to peer from between the books sitting on either side of her face. She was looking through a bookshelf, listening to the two men, who seemingly didn't notice her. This bookshelf was built into the wall, for spying reasons, Moa assumed. You just had to move a book a little to one side to see into the next room. Same went the other way around. It was dark in the hallway where Moa stood, as well as the room through which she peered. Moa had been using Lumos to get by in the hall when she noticed the sound of voices weaving through the walls. At first, she had pressed her ear up against a spot next to the dusty old bookshelf, but then noticed that the closer she got to it, the better she could hear. It wasn't long before she examined a space between the books, revealing the room she was eavesdropping to.

The room was lit by candlelight, the flames collected near one corner of the room. The room was covered in shelves filled with even more literature, and Moa suspected that she blended right in. Sadly, she could not see this Nicholas Flemmel character, only Dumbledore's back and the corner of the desk where she presumed the candles sat.

"Nicholas,"Dumbledore heaved a sigh,"I just want what's best for her. You know that."

Moa thought she saw his shoulders droop a little.

"Exactly,"A hand creeped out and grasped his shoulder,"Which is why we should hold no secrets, not one. I think we should even tell her about-"

Albus Dumbledore flicked his wand and every book around Moa flew down, falling into neat little stacks at the bookshelf's feet. Moa stood shock still, like a deer frozen in headlights, before she made a break for it.

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The darkness in the hall engulfed her, and her breaths were short, hurried. The feeling of being followed felt like the tide of the ocean, pulling her back. She didn't dare look behind her as she began to twist down the hall, following the curve. Moa had a bad feeling that began to drip through her, and all her thoughts screamed at her to get off the main pathway.

She heard the unspoken spell through her suspense, already recognizing that she would not escape. Instinctively, she ran faster, even though Moa knew this wouldn't help her. She turned around to meet Dumbledore's attack, already starting to produce a shield spell. In the knick of time, she bounced the curse, Locomotor Mortis, off her shield and back towards Dumbledore.

Everything was silent, as it had been the second the books protecting Moa were stacked. As Moa turned again to see if Albus Dumbledore would dodge her counter-attack, which he did so easily, she made the mistake of looking at his partner in crime. Nicholas Flemmel didn't even have his wand out. As Moa stared at his ghastly, peeling face, she caught his old filmy eyes, and watched one wink.

A crooked smile pulled up on Flemmel's face as he watched Moa pause, startled. A second spell was flung at her, and the chase was finished.

With her legs locked, Moa couldn't move. Dumbledore regained his composure, then started to casually walk up to her. His face showed concern.

He confided,"You needn't be afraid of us, Moa. We're not going to hurt you."

Deep in her mind, Moa knew this. It was the pain she grew up with that caused her not to trust people the second they do something suspicious.

_And hiding in a secret room arguing about what to tell me seems pretty damn suspicious._

Moa kept silent and unwillingly still. When Flemmel and Dumbledore were a foot away, Locomotor Mortis was taken off her legs. She almost collapsed the second her legs unlocked, but to her gratification she simply took a stiff step forward. Dumbledore instinctively reached out his hands to help her, but once again she ignored his gesture to help her up.

It was Nicholas Flemmel who broke the silence.

"So this is it, then. Voldemort's child," he muttered to himself as he summed her up.

His voice was scratchy and unappealing, something Moa hadn't noticed before. His dark gray beard was cut shorter than Dumbledore's, looking as if it had been done with jagged scissors. His eyes were a light gray, an effect of the milky catalases that provided a shield over his eyes.

_Then how can he see me if he's...blind?_

She was about to ask this black man just that, when Dumbledore dragged Moa's attention elsewhere. He sighed as he took in her expression at Flemmel, it showed a measure of bewilderment and disgust.

"How much have you heard?"he demanded, his words careful.

Moa gave Dumbledore a sharp glare before answering,"You know, it's hard to build trust if you're keeping secrets."

The light from the candles in the hidden room flickered, and both Dumbledore and Moa seemed to suddenly realize how very dark it was in the hall. Nicholas Flemmel showed an unreadable face. Two chairs appeared from the smoky tip of Dumbledore's wand, along with a few luminescent circles that floated up just above their heads. Nicholas provided his own chair, much more intricate then the ones Dumbledore had produced.

"Sit,"Dumbledore instructed,"It's about time we told you everything. Just as you said, it's hard to build trust while keeping secrets."

Two hours later, Moa Riddle had many of her questions answered. They planned to keep her at Dumbledore's summer home in Spes Mountains. She would probably be home-schooled, they weren't going to deny her an education. Once there was trust built between the three wizards, Dumbledore planned on taking her to places, helping her follow the path of good She was told she could leave them at any time and join her father's side, but somehow Moa knew it wouldn't be that easy. There was also mention of secret meetings, held by The Order Of The Phoenix, but Nicholas Flemmel was quickly silenced when he casually mentioned this. Moa was reassured many times that Lord Voldemort would never find out where she was, but this didn't calm Moa's mind.

Moa protested,"But The Dark Lord,"Moa took a moment before revealing one of her many inner pains,"read Layla's parents minds before he-"

Dumbledore quickly answered Moa, allowing her not to finish.

"There are plenty of charms protecting us Moa. And if you hadn't noticed, this place, this house moves every couple of hours to a new location in these mountains. Not one person can enter here unless I make it so. You have nothing to worry about in that case."

This made Moa relax a bit. But one thing was still pressing her mind. The image of Dumbledore's face filled her mind, his words rather curious.

"_You look quite shaken. Would you care for a lemon drop?"_

_And yet another time..._

"_In times like these, I recommend taking a lemon drop."_

"What's with the lemon drops?"Moa demanded, a little louder than she would have liked.

Albus Dumbledore and Nicholas Flemmel chuckled simultaneously, which only made Flemmel's booming laugh become released even louder. It was strange hearing an old man chuckle so loudly, and it wasn't until Dumbledore started talking that Flemmel abruptly silenced this laughter.

"The ones I have let you fall into slumber after sucking on one. They're on the table in the living room, I suppose you haven't noticed."

Dumbledore paused, but not long enough for the possibilities to sink in.

"They are a great use in times of great pain, Moa. Because they let you, as they say, "Sleep on it."Dumbledore rubbed his thigh and tilted his head as he continued,"But you must be aware, the consequences of using them too much will erase you life away. One can become addicted to hiding from pain, and continue going to sleep, forever."

This made Moa's stomach drop. She imagined a person constantly drowning themselves in lemon drops, forcing themselves to sleep forever.

Moa accused him,"But why would you offer me something like that? Multiple times!"

Dumbledore sighed and looked away, as if embarrassed.

"I just didn't know what to do. I didn't want you to do something you might later regret."

Moa's eyes popped open.

"Like what? Commit suicide?"

Eternally calm, Albus Dumbledore replied,"Perhaps. But I was thinking more along the lines of running away, when you really hadn't fully understood you predicament."

Moa let her gaze fall to her feet, then explore around the hall. Strange pictures were hung up everywhere, of monsters and people alike. Although some people looked more like monsters themselves. Among these were beautiful fairies and scenery, causing quite a contradiction in the hall.

Confiding her low self-esteem to Dumbledore, Nicholas seemed to be daydreaming, Moa questioned,"Am I really that much use to you guys?"

Much to Moa's surprise, it was Nicholas who answered her question.

_This guy is so weird._

"Much use to us? Much use to us!" Nicholas exclaimed out of excitement,"You're Voldemort's child, you're probably as powerful as, I dunno, Harry Potter!"

_I like him._

This name registered in Moa's consciousness, but it wasn't until Dumbledore mumbled his name again did Moa realize who he was.

"That's The Dark Lord's enemy...his worst enemy,"Moa muttered, half to herself.

Her thoughts traveled to what felt like only yesterday...

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_-One year earlier-_

_The forest leaves rustled, victims of the strong wind. Lord Voldemort was gliding beside His only child, Moa Riddle, on the outskirts of yet another independent forest. They didn't look anything alike, and they probably never would. The real reason was unknown to Moa, and to most people of the world. He liked it much better that way._

_His restless fingers moved slowly with the morning air, as if controlling it. Soon He held up his wrist, examining it, talking as He did so._

"_Moa,"His voice stretched every word,"Do you want to know who my mortal enemy is?"_

_Moa didn't say a word, but continued to walk alongside Him._

"_Harry... Potter,"He spat,"a twelve year old boy."_

_This caused Moa to stop in her tracks. She thought The Dark Lord must be joking. _

_But The Dark Lord never joked._

_He turned his head to face her, speaking calmly at first,"What?"_

_Moa didn't know what to say. She was thinking quickly, trying to figure out a way to get out of the situation she was suddenly thrust into._

_Voldemort's icy fingers grabbed at her throat with unpredictable speed, and banged her up against a nearby oak, causing it's leaves to rustle more violently._

"_Don't you believe me?!"He yelled, choking Moa. _

_He held her there a long time, locking his pale fingers around her throat tighter and tighter as His anger increased. His venomous eyes watched her, his anger spilled out over her. When she was gasping in her last breaths, He was finally satisfied. After he released her, she fell to her hands and knees, trying to suck in the much needed oxygen. Her father kicked sandy dirt in her face._

"_Weak,"He sneered at his daughter, then left her there to recuperate._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"Harry Potter,"she muttered again, this time with feeling.

_I did not believe the information,_

_Just had to trust imagination._

_My heart was going boom, boom, boom,_

_Son, he said, grab your things I've come to take you home._


End file.

Harry Potter, Romance, Supernatural